


Springtime in Berlin

by Amsel



Series: On the outside looking in [3]
Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: F/M, I made it up, No idea how this would normally work, Police Procedural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 13:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amsel/pseuds/Amsel
Summary: Detective Mun gets his arrest. And his revenge. And maybe even the girl?





	Springtime in Berlin

**Author's Note:**

> Third in how I envision this to end. I have no idea how police would normally handle high profile arrest. Certainly not with this much dramatic flair.

Detective Mun surveyed the skyline, mentally comparing the view to the one from his office window. It was better. Then again, even though Berlin was the largest German city, it was still smaller than Seoul, and there was more space. The weather was better in Korea, he reflected. The weather here in Berlin was cold and damp. At least Korean winters were properly cold before blooming into beautiful spring. Here, spring was grey and wet. 

He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, and turned back to the large oval table absolutely packed with people. The Interpol faction was still painstakingly going through the evidence they had. The German faction was absolutely vibrating with energy, since they had contributed the final piece of evidence which would allow them all to swoop down on international money laundering in no less than ten countries. 

Mun was here as a courtesy. Somehow, that diligent work on the Bak case had brought him here, to this European city. On his first night, wired from jetlag, he had walked in the very early morning along the remains of the Berlin wall, and had thought about his own divided country. He had been a child in the early nineties. He still remembered the hope in his parent’s eyes.

Joon-Ki Bak, it turned out, was implicated in a much bigger, much more international crime than first thought. Mun wondered, rather nastily, if the young Bak knew what he had gotten himself into. The Russian and German mafia was the very least of his problems, but just there had come his undoing. One of the crime lords of this city had presented the Berlin police with a large, well-researched dossier that had lit firecrackers under everybody from Interpol and the FBI downward. 

Why the crime lord had decided to hand over the details of what must have been a very lucrative line of business was a mystery. And he had more intel, which promised to be even more explosive. The only trouble was that he had given them all a small taste of the contents, but was adamant that he wished to hand over the entire file in person, at a public event, of all things. Detective Mun had never heard something so stupid in his life. 

The dossier had contained further evidence of Joon-Ki Bak’s guilt. It even contained sworn affidavits of three men testifying that they had been hired to kill his sister in prison. That inclusion had guaranteed Mun his place in this august round. 

It was shocking how many governments and politicians were implicated. And that was only what Mun knew. He was sure there was more he was not privileged to. 

“Tonight, at nine o’clock, our contact will hand over names, dates and even more evidence. Our German colleagues are now going to introduce this character to us,” the American Interpol man finished his presentation.

“Thank you,” the burly German liaison got up and fiddled with the laptop. “At the moment, Berlin is going through a bloody revolution in terms of a mafia shake-up. For many years, five mafia gangs ran the organized criminal machinations here,”

With a click the man whooshed up five headshots of men. Two looked like thugs, one looked quite avuncular, one like a nerd, and there was a young man with a beard.   
“Three of the five men you see here are dead. We believe this is due to this man,” another photo appeared, of a young, smiling blond man. Where the other men looked stern, he looked open and approachable.

“That is never a mugshot!” one of the Americans called out.

“It is not. This is the tinder profile picture of Wolfgang Bogdanow,” the German answered.

There was a titter.

“We could have gone with the pictures on his driving licence and ID card, but this one seemed more appropriate. Because we have nothing on him. He has never been arrested. There has never been any indication of violent tendencies. He is the nephew of this one,” the official highlighted one of the thugs on the overhead, “Sergei Bogdanow, but we thought he was nothing more than a small-time crook at best,”

“But if he is the nephew of one of the mafia bosses,” Mun burst out.

The speaker held up his hand. “Yes. What happened. Sergei Bogdanow had a son, a nasty piece of work named Steiner,” another photo connected by a red line to the photo of the elder Bogdanow appeared, “who would have been the natural heir to the crime gang. Our informants tell us that he had a violent confrontation with Wolfgang Bogdanow’s only friend, a locksmith named Felix Berner,” 

Another photo appeared, a crime scene showing the bloody floor of a small shop, and then a man in a hospital bed.

“And about a week later, Steiner Bogdanow along with five of his hired goons went missing. Only a day later, Sergei Bogdanow is shot seven times in the face and once into the leg in his own home,”

“And the young Bogdanow takes over the mafia gang?” one of the French team asked.

“No. He does not. He keeps very quiet indeed. The other mafia gangs start sniffing around, take his measure. It is believed he will allow the others to carve up the area his uncle controlled. But one of the men gets greedy. Volker Bohm,” the avuncular man in the picture was highlighted, “we believe puts out a hit on him and his friend. Again, we are left with dead bodies,”

A gruesome picture of three dead men appeared on the screen.

“There were survivors this time. Apparently, after his latest display, it was decided that Wolfgang Bogdanow should be wooed and not killed. The next man to make an offer is Sebastian Fuchs,”

The picture of the young man came center stage. 

“He gifts a night club to Bogdanow’s friend Berner. It is a good club, very popular with the crowds. Fuchs is the cleverest of the lot here. The others are, or were, quite old school. Thugs basically. Fuchs is into money laundering. And he has an associate, Lila Facchini,”

Another photo appeared, and Mun was not the only one to whistle appreciatively. 

“The next thing we know, Bogdanow and Facchini have killed the rest of the crime lords with the exception of Fuchs, and then have a show-down in a restaurant. Bogdanow kills five hired killers and then vanishes for about three months. We were expecting his body to turn up at some point. Facchini and Fuchs come to an understanding and set out to carve up the city between them, when Bogdanow comes back. Apparently, he was being held somewhere, and it was not a good place. But he escaped, came back to Berlin, and set about taking over the city. And there was nothing Fuchs and Facchini could do. Actually, it seems Bogdanow and Facchini made up, because they collaborate on a lot of things. Including shopping the money launderers,”

“Why is this man not in prison?” Mun burst out.

The speaker sighed. “Because we cannot prove anything. This is what various informants have told us. None of them are willing to testify. We have five people in custody, and they refused a plea deal in exchange for dirt on the man. We have no paper trail to speak of, and what we do have would be thrown out as inadmissible. So until we have more solid evidence, Bogdanow is here to stay,”

“Why then did he hand over the dossier?” a British investigator asked.

“And what does he get in exchange for all this information?” one of the FBI men asked.

“Suspiciously little, actually. He had the gall to tell me he trusts justice will be served on all the people mentioned in his dossier,” the official said sourly. 

“You’ve met him?” 

“He came to me personally. Made contact with me at a concert of the Berliner Philharmonie. We had a very long discussion on Mendelsohn-Bartholdy,” the official said sourly. “I had no idea who he was until he handed me the dossier on the way out,”

“Really?” another of the British contingent asked. “How did you not know about a violent criminal in your city?”

“Because I stereotyped. I know music is appreciated even by lowlifes, but I would not have expected to discuss the finer points of Mendelsohn-Bartholdy’s influence on modern appreciation of Bach’s work with a locksmith who barely scraped through his school and left with no qualifications,”

Mun scratched his head, and looked around for help. “Is this specialised knowledge?” he asked.

The German officer gave him a dry look. “It is mainly due to Mendelsohn-Bartholdy that Bach came back to prominence. He had been all but forgotten after his passing. If you have no great interest in his life or even music, this would be something you would not know,”

“So Bogdanow is a music lover,” the FBI man said. “That is something. Our profilers may be able to get a psych eval on him,”

“Good luck,” the German muttered. “Anyway, we have agreed to overlook some minor infractions, mostly things we can pin on Felix Berner. And Bogdanow wants the arrest of Joong-Ki Bak to be at Berner’s club. Very open,”

“Why does he want to be dramatic?” Mun burst out.

“Bak managed to offend him somehow,” the German said. 

“But why go to these lengths? How does a small-time crook even know about a Korean embezzler?” the British man asked.

“I might have a partial answer. We have a man deep undercover investigating large-scale medical fraud,” the CIA man piped up. “I cannot reveal his name at this point, but through his investigation we were able to connect the fraudulent and frankly criminal machinations of a global pharmaceutical company with this money laundering investigation. Ladies and gentlemen, this money laundering is part of a larger world-wide criminal ring, and believe me, governments are going to fall in the outcome,”

The German official slapped down a hand on the lectern. “Are you telling us we have to can the arrests?” he pressed out.

“No. Just that this is part of a larger picture,” the CIA man answered. “And that I might ask you to quietly free a few people should they be arrested, no questions asked,”

“Not Bak,” Mun said. “I will arrest him, and I will take him to Seoul,”

“It is not Bak,” the CIA man said, while the German puffed up: “I will arrest him. You have no jurisdiction in Berlin,”

Jun put his hand on Mun’s shoulder and pulled him back. “Calm down!” he whispered. “They would not have invited us here if we were not going to get him,”  
Mun settled back, and nodded his apology to the German.

“Very well. The plan, and Bogdanow’s wish, is that we splashily arrest Bak tonight at the club, just before the signing. Bogdanow will allow a number of us in. In case of problems, we will have sharp-shooters and armed police on stand-by outside…”

Mun and Jun had been allowed into the club even though during the negotiations nobody had been sure if Bak would recognise them or not. In the end, Mun had had to promise to keep to the back and not come forward until the arrest had been implemented.

The club was only half-full. Not a lot of people were dancing. Then again, it was still early for Berlin nightlife, only having gone half past eleven at night. Mun watched from the dance floor as a table was set up at the back and a pyramid of champagne glasses stacked on it, with three bottles of champagne chilling in silver buckets next to it. 

The waiters were specially hired, Mun knew, all being policemen. More disguised policemen were setting up a buffet table, and in a back room the normal club bouncers had all been kettled, stripped of their phones and told to wait. Beefy new security was now stationed everywhere. And up above them on a dais, there sat a smirking blond man surveying them all. Now and again he would take a sip from a beer bottle. For a criminal boss whose place of operations was teeming with police he seemed remarkably cool. 

His eyes snagged on them both, and he crooked a finger at them. When they didn’t move, he turned to the German liaison smoldering at his shoulder and said something to him. There was a short, intense argument, during which the smirk got impossibly wider on Bogdanow’s face and their liaison got noticeably redder in the face. Then the man turned to them and gestured sharply.

Mun and Jun moved towards the stairs, where they were met by the visibly angry policeman.

“He would like a word. Keep it brief and be quick. We are going to record what you say,” he said.

Mun nodded, and they moved forward, the German pulling out a Dictaphone and laying it prominently on the small table.

“Enjoying yourself?” Bogdanow asked Mun with a smile, quite different to the smirk he had worn before.

“Should I be?” Mun asked.

“You are going to arrest Joon-Ki, a man I understand shot you in the stomach,” the blond said calmly.

“How do you know about that?” Mun asked, startled.

“I have my sources. Also, my sister thinks you are cute,”

Mun spluttered. 

“You should meet later. Ow,” Bogdanow rubbed his arm and grinned lovingly over his shoulder. “It had to be said,”

“Since when do you have a sister, Bogdanow?” the German policeman cut in testily. 

Bogdanow smirked, then picked up the Dictaphone. “Time, gentlemen. The show is about to start,”

He handed the Dictaphone over to the policeman, who cursed and thumbed it off. Mun and Jun walked back down, glancing at each other in confusion.

“Is he trying to corrupt you?” Jun asked quietly.

“I have no idea,” Mun answered. “But I think we should be careful,”

They ducked back into the gloomier part of the club. 

There was an upswell of noise, and a great number of people pushed into the club. Mun saw Bogdanow get up and walk down the steps of the dais to greet the new arrivals.

Spearheading the group was Lila Facchini, flanked by Bak and Sebastian Fuchs. Facchini was smirking in a similar manner to Bogdanow.

“Lila. Sebastian,” Bogdanow greeted them. “And this must be Mr Bak,” he smirked.

“Wolfgang,” Lila leaned forward to kiss his cheeks. Bogdanow shook hands with Fuchs, who was looking around, his eyes narrowed, and then Joong-Ki Bak.

“Please. I’ve set up a table over here with refreshments for your party, Mr Bak,” Bogdanow said, gesturing at the table of food. And as soon as business is concluded, we start pouring the champagne and the party starts,”

“Wolfgang, these people…” Fuchs started.

Mun saw a number of the undercover officers in the room tense.

“Different caterers I’m afraid. Our usual suppliers have a bad case of food poisoning, but this firm is very reliable,” Bogdanow said smoothly. “Relax, Sebastian. All will be well,”

Facchini put her hand on Fuchs’ arm. “Dear Sebastian. He does so want to make a good impression on you, Mr Bak. We are all looking forward to seeing Bak International Enterprises succeed,”

Fuchs glanced around, then looked back at the other two crime bosses. His bodyguards slowly came forward, looking a little tense, but he waved them back subtly.

Around him, Mun saw the officers slowly calm down.

“Maybe, Wolfgang, you and I can get the paperwork out while Lila entertains our guest?” he asked, coming forward to put a friendly arm around Bogdanow’s shoulders.

“Excellent. Please. Enjoy the buffet, gentlemen, while Sebastian and I bring the paperwork,” Bogdanow said. The two men walked towards the back of the bar, the bodyguards subtly trailing them. Mun saw the grip of Fuchs’ hand tighten on Bogdanow’s shoulder until it was white.

He breathed carefully out, his eyes never leaving the slight frame of Bak, who had been scooped up by a very pretty, very tall blonde girl tempting him with morsels of food. His entourage of young, slick men were fanning out, mingling with young women who had suddenly appeared, all smiling widely, and to Mun’s eyes, falsely. 

He dropped a little further into the background.

A few minutes later, he saw Bogdanow and Fuchs come back. Fuchs looked a little spooked, but Bogdanow was carrying a large ledger to the table with the champagne and set it down, and Fuchs followed.

“Mr Bak, you should really meet my sister. She is absolutely ecstatic about all this,” Bogdanow smiled with his teeth. His eyes were cold.

“You have a sister?” Bak asked, moving to open the folder, and pulling out a fountain pen.

“Several, actually. But this one takes a close interest in you. As do I,” Bogdanow smirked, flipping open the folder and holding it up to Bak’s face. 

The sentence YOU ARE UNDER ARREST stood out in large black letters.

Bak reared back. “Is this a joke?” he asked.

“Joong-Ki, meet Polizeihauptkommissar Dieter Schneider. That’s German for detective chief inspector. He wants to meet you,”

Bogdanow took a step back, pulling Fuchs along with him, out of the way of the surging throng of policemen closing in.

Mun looked at Jun, then they both surged forward. Mun took a long moment to savour Bak’s facial expression when he laid eyes on them.

The reading of the rights took some time. Mun kept his eyes on the captive group, forced to the sidelines by jurisdiction and etiquette, yet tolerated for his history. From the corner of his eye, he watched the furious sotto voce discussion between Fuchs and his two associates.

“Looks like those two kept Fuchs in the dark,” Jun muttered to Mun. 

“It does, doesn’t it. Do you think this is some sort of social thing? Western customs are very strange, and their version of honour might have something to do with all this,” Mun answered. 

“Maybe. I have never really understood Western values,”

“That’s easy. They are as bland as their food,” 

Jun sniggered, and Mun let out a small laugh as well, tension uncoiling.He looked up to see Bogdanow watching him. Their eyes met, and Bogdanow winked. Mun straightened up, startled.  
Bogdanow took a step toward the melee of police with Bak in the middle.

“I see you are almost ready t leave?” he asked. “I don’t want to hurry you, but Felix’ staff is a little nervous of so much police presence. I hope you understand,”

“Don’t get fresh, Bogdanow,” one of the Germans grunted.

“I’m so sorry. I forgot our bargain. Of course. My sister is on her way with the dossier,” Bogdanow said.

Now he was wearing a most unpleasant smirk, one side of his mouth turned up and unholy glee in his eyes. He was looking directly at Bak.

Bak started shouting at him in Korean. “You dirty traitor, I will get you for this! You think you are safe, you little –“

“Shut up, gae-sae-kki,” Bogdanow shot back in perfect Korean.

Bak shut up. Mun took a step nearer.

“Did he just insult Bak?” Jun asked Mun quietly.

“Yes. I did,” Bogdanow said to them, again in their native tongue. 

Then he turned around and took a couple of steps toward a female form walking toward them, carrying another folder of papers.

Mun stared hard at the person walking toward them. She was slim, with dark hair. He squinted in the light of the club. She also looked familiar. She stepped forward, Bogdanow turning in behind her like a hulking bodyguard. Mun swivelled around to keep her in his sights as she stepped forward towards the group of men awaiting her.

“Joong-Ki!” Bogdanow said loudly, in English. “May I introduce you to my sister Sun?”

Joong-Ki produced a high hysterical noise.

“Ms Bak!” Mun squeaked.

“Detective,” she answered, with a small smile. Then she faced the German policeman.

“Herr Schneider, hier ist das Dossier,” she said, holding out the folder in a respectful manner toward him. He took it, looking slightly dazed.

“Ah. Danke?” he answered, eyes flicking from her to Mun to Bogdanow. “Bak?” 

“Yes. Bak Sun. I am the rightful owner of Bak Enterprises. There are a few legal wrinkles to smooth out, but I am sure once all this is done, I can assume my rightful place, and the shameful and criminal machinations of my father’s son can be put behind us,” she said. “I will, of course, be at your disposal if you have any questions on the matters in this file,”

She bowed, a small elegant bow indicating the polite dismissal of one of lesser status.

“Yes, well,” the German police officer muttered, then jerked at Bak. “Right. Come along quietly, sir,”

Most of the police started moving away toward the exit. House lights came on. Fuchs was now surrounded by his bodyguards, looking spooked.

“Well, Wolfgang. It seems you two had fun,” Facchini said, bitingly.

“We did, yes,” Bogdanow said, relaxing against the table, and grabbing one of the champagne bottles to open it.

“What the fuck, Wolfgang!” Fuchs nearly shouted.

“Lila and I needed to get rid of some big players, Sebastian,” Bogdanow said soothingly. “Sorry we couldn’t tell you about it before,”

“How big?” Fuchs asked suspiciously.

“Global,” Bogdanow said, popping the cork and letting champagne flow into the topmost glass of the pyramid, from where it spilled into the lower ones.

“Hell of a risk,” Facchini muttered.

“You agreed to the fight,” Bogdanow said. “If you want to keep your leash, by all means back out. It will give me an opportunity to say thank you for those lovely weeks with the cannibal,” 

 

“Say the word, bitch,” Ms Bak agreed, taking two of the champagne flutes.

“No. Mai soli,” Facchini admitted with a sigh, then took a glass herself.

Bogdanow pressed a glass on Fuchs, then took another for himself. He and Ms Bak smiled at each other, clinking glasses together and drinking deep.

Then she came over to him and Jun, handing him the spare glass.

“Detective. It is good to see you recovered,” she said.

“Ms Bak?” he managed to finally splutter. “What are you doing here?” 

“Visiting my brother. A good place to stay and work out my legal issues, don’t you think?” she asked, smiling lightly. 

“Ms Bak, I – when – How?” he managed.

Jun took out his phone, snapped a photo and then started fiddling on it.

“Sending a message?” she asked. “Don’t worry. I have already contacted the appropriate Korean justice departments,”

“When?” Jun spluttered.

“Just before I came out here,” she said. “No doubt things will be very hectic, and a great many people of high rank will be in great difficulty. Bit once it is all behind us, I would be happy to train with you, Detective Mun. It would be a great honour to once again face you in a fight,” 

Composed, she finished her champagne and walked away.

“I knew you would hit it off,” Bogdanow said into his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a whole Wiki-article on Korean profanity! Wolfgang calls Jong-Ki a son-of-a-bitch (son of a dog). I thought that appropriate.


End file.
